Dying, his lord he own’d; view’d him all o’er With eager eyes, then closed those eyes, well pleased. Of lesser ills the Muse declines to sing, Nor stoops so low; of these, each groom can tell The proper remedy. But oh! what care, What prudence, can prevent madness, the worst Of maladies? Terrifick pest! that blasts The huntsman’s hopes, and desolation spreads Through all the unpeopled kennel, unrestrain’d; More fatal than the envenom’d viper’s bite, Or that Apulian spider’s poisonous sting, Heal’d by the pleasing antidote of sounds. When Sirius reigns, and the sun’s parching beams Bake the dry gaping surface, visit thou Each even and morn, with quick observant eye, Thy panting pack. If, in dark sullen mood, The glouting hound refuse his wonted meal, Retiring to some close obscure retreat, Gloomy, disconsolate; with speed remove The poor infectious wretch, and in strong chains Bind him, suspected. Thus that dire disease, Which art can’t cure, wise caution may prevent. But, this neglected, soon expect a change, A dismal change, confusion, frenzy, death! Or, in some dark recess, the senseless brute [Sidenote: BOOK IV THE CHASE v. 210-234.] Sits, sadly pining; deep melancholy, And black despair, upon his clouded brow Hang lowering; from his half-opening jaws, The clammy venom, and infectious froth, Distilling fall; and from his lungs, inflamed, Malignant vapours taint the ambient air, Breathing perdition; his dim eyes are glazed, He droops his pensive head; his trembling limbs No more support his weight; abject he lies, Dumb, spiritless, benumb’d; till death, at last, Gracious attends, and kindly brings relief. Or, if outrageous grown, behold, alas! A yet more dreadful scene; his glaring eyes Redden with fury; like some angry boar, Churning, he foams, and, on his back, erect His pointed bristles rise; his tail incurved He drops; and, with harsh broken howlings, rends The poison-tainted air; with rough hoarse voice Incessant bays, and snuffs the infectious breeze; This way and that he stares, aghast, and starts At his own shade; jealous, as if he deem’d The world his foes. If haply toward the stream He cast his roving eye, cold horrour chills His soul; averse, he flies, trembling, appall’d: Now frantick, to the kennel’s utmost verge, [Sidenote: BOOK IV THE CHASE v. 235-259.]